


They're Awful

by itsnotlove



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Drabbles, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Public Sex, Secret Sex, honestly just these two being civilised to each other should count as fluff, huehue that boy kissing is surely the most dangerous thing in this rip, human Tsukumoya, izaya pls, mild bondage?!?!, snarkflirting, so many tumblr drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotlove/pseuds/itsnotlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Tsukuzaya drabbles and stories, either written on my Tsukumoya RP blog, or just because I apparently hate myself. They're awful, this ship is awful, and if I could set it on fire, I would.</p><p>This is all <a href="http:www.clandestineking.tumblr.com">clandestineking's</a> fault, honestly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pixietails](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixietails/gifts).



**Prompt:** My muse clutches their hand tightly around your muse’s mouth to silence them. 

 

* * *

 

 

With his hand covering Izaya’s mouth in a vicelike grip, one could be mistaken in thinking that Tsukumoya was in charge of the situation. He’d perched himself atop Izaya’s lap, straddling him as their cocks pressed up against each other. **  
**

Neither man moved despite their shared desire to do so, choosing instead to stare at each other as Tsukumoya’s fingers dug into the informants cheek. How they’d gotten into this position was ridiculous enough, but Izaya’s teasing had pushed Tsukumoya to try his hardest to silence him.

It had started as it usually did: Tsukumoya had been attempting to speak to Izaya as an adult, and Izaya had made their conversation more adult. Never one to let Izaya one up him, Tsukumoya’s only choice was to visit the informant and shut him up. Things became heated quickly, with pants being removed and informants being tossed onto the couch, but they were interrupted by the sound of a key in the door.

Izaya, being the cruel and idiotic man that he was, had supposedly found this interruption to hilarious, laughing obnoxiously as Tsukumoya grabbed his wrist and dragged him to (then underneath) Izaya’s desk. The informant had followed willingly, practically skipping behind Tsukumoya as he laughed at the older man’s sense of urgency.

It was only Namie, and he could always call her a pervert later.

After shoving Izaya under the desk, Tsukumoya climbed in behind him, sitting on his lap in order to prevent him from moving (so he reasoned) and clamping a hand over the other man’s lips before Namie walked into the room. Which brings us to the present moment.

Namie’s heels tapped into the entrance before the door clicked shut, followed by a series of shuffling noises as she changed into the house slippers and muffled steps moving across the floor. They stopped for a moment, a loud sigh seeming to echo throughout the apartment, before moving again.

Izaya’s eyes widened with a sort of childish glee as his tongue slid across the inside of Tsukumoya’s palm, forcing out a small, happy noise from the latter before his hand tightened threateningly.

He wasn’t about to get caught by someone, let alone be caught pantless by Izaya’s secretary, just because the idiot had started moving his hips-

“Stop that.” Tsukumoya whispered harshly, his words covered by the sound of the kettle boiling. When had Namie moved to the kitchen?

Izaya stopped his hips from moving, only to focus on Tsukumoya’s hand. Though it was difficult to tell now when he was this worked up, it was obvious that Izaya was writing something with his tongue on Tsukumoya’s palm. Through the shivers, Tsukumoya was able to figure out most of what was being said.

“Are you shy, Shinichi?”

The use of his first name wasn’t quite as powerful as it would have been had it been spoken, but it was enough for the writer to jerk his hips against Izaya’s. He quickly moved them back away, wincing at Izaya’s quiet laughter as he tried (and failed) to centre himself.

A rhythmic tapping filled the air, drawing both of their attentions back to Namie. Tsukumoya really couldn’t- shouldn’t- be doing this anyway, but Izaya managed to draw him back without even trying. It was like an addiction, something that-

“..!”

Something that Tsukumoya hadn’t accounted for was Izaya’s hands, which was possibly his biggest mistake to date. The informant had slid a hand between them as Tsukumoya had been thinking, the fingers wrapping around both their erections tightly as they started to tease, pull, and play.

The grip he had on Izaya’s mouth loosened before it fell away quickly, moving to grip at a shoulder instead as his forehead fell atop the other. His breathing was loud, muffled only by the skin of Izaya’s neck that had somehow worked its way into his mouth.

His hips canted forward, grinding against Izaya’s cock and into his palm as he whimpered quietly. Why they were doing this under Izaya’s desk was now a mystery to Tsukumoya, and he slowly started to become louder and louder until he was repeating Izaya’s name like some sort of mantra.

Izaya laughed quietly, shushing him for some reason as Tsukumoya tensed up. His body seized and he rocked his hips forward, cumming with a loud groan onto Izaya’s stomach moments before the latter followed suit.

Slumped over Izaya, Tsukumoya fought to control his breathing. There was something important that he’d forgotten, something that-

“I’m not cleaning that.”

With something that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Tsukumoya clung to Izaya more tightly. He wasn’t going to leave the desk until the mean lady had left, and even then he might decide to stay there forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Prompt:** Send one of these to my muse and they’ll react to having it whispered in their ear.

 

* * *

 

 

The words came so quietly that Tsukumoya was sure he must have imagined them. He stilled his movements, not entirely sure of what he should be doing. 

Earlier in the night, he’d managed to sneak away from his own home in order to break into Izaya’s apartment. This was something that seemed to occur regularly these days, and though he’d  _usually_ ask Izaya if it was fine to visit, it had been so late that the man was likely asleep.

By the time he’d slipped off his shoes and crept up the stairs, the author was already tired enough to collapse. It was funny, given that he had been wide awake before entering the apartment, but something about visiting Izaya always made him relax.

It was something he didn’t dare think too deeply about.

Prince yawned at him once he entered the bedroom, the cat peering at him with one eye as he quietly disrobed. This was something he’d done so often that he had Izaya’s bedroom memorised, and so he quickly found a shirt and boxers to steal as sleep attire.

He’d been absolute silent so as not to wake the informant, and felt a swell of pride in being able to not disturb him. Izaya was a light sleeper, so he said, so it really was quite the achievement. 

Izaya didn’t stir once as Tsukumoya climbed into bed, or when the thin arm wrapped around him and drew him closer. It wasn’t particularly affectionate, it was merely practical. Izaya would, as he always did, move over in his sleep in order to suck the warmth straight out of Tsukumoya’s body, so it made sense to make sure that they’d be in a comfortable position. 

Closing his eyes, he smiled as Prince rearranged himself on the bed and snuck up to sleep on the pillow beside Tsukumoya’s head (and above Izaya’s). Everything was peaceful and he felt sleep start to take him over, until he realised he’d made a tragic mistake.

He’d forgotten that he needed to use the bathroom.

It wasn’t urgent, but it was uncomfortable. Deciding it was better to untangle himself from Izaya sooner rather than later, he removed his arm and started to shift away. 

_“Don’t leave.”_

The words were so soft that he really, truly thought that he’d imagined them. To think that Izaya would say anything so kind was ridiculous, but he couldn’t _not_ believe it as he’d literally just heard it. 

He looked down at Izaya in confusion, tempted to ask if he knew exactly what he’d said, when pure ice rubbed against his calves and made him jolt right out of bed and onto the floor.

Izaya’s feet were freezing, something that Tsukumoya had forgotten seemed to happen each night. He peered over the mattress and at Izaya’s face, frowning at the shit-eating grin he was wearing. 

Even when he was mostly asleep, Izaya was an asshole. 

With a huff, Tsukumoya stopped to the bathroom and relieved himself, then flushed the toilet five times in an attempt to be an annoyance. Certain that he’d accomplished his goal, he wandered back to the bed to find that Izaya actually _was_ asleep now. 

“Idiot.”

He climbed back into bed and into their previous position, and covered Izaya’s feet with his own. In the morning, Tsukumoya would get his revenge, but for now all he wanted to get was some sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Prompt:** My muse finds yours naked and tied to the bed

 

* * *

 

He could always check the several security cameras in Izaya’s building before going so that he’d have an idea of what to expect, but truthfully, he enjoyed the unpredictability of it all. It wasn’t as though the informant wouldn’t let Tsukumoya know if something untoward were happening anyway.

Then again, that same informant _had_ sent him a rather interesting message. When Tsukumoya had questioned (subtly) Izaya on whether he could visit the other man (not because he enjoyed his company, but because he was bored), that latter had taken at least four minutes to reply and had been far too enthusiastic about the whole thing.

    [I’m a little tied up but if you think you can handle that, then be my guest.]

There was _definitely_ something suspicious about that message, but Tsukumoya had no idea what it could be.

Until he walked in.

The lights weren’t turned on, which gave the apartment an ominous sort of feeling an Tsukumoya frowned slightly, wondering if he’d been had. It was possible that the informant was just messing with him and wasn’t even _at_ his apartment, but it didn’t feel quite right.

He pulled out his phone and squinted at the too-bright screen, then called Izaya’s number (which _definitely_ wasn’t number 1 on his speed dial). It took a moment for him to hear it ringing through his handset, and another for him to hear the irritating ringtone Izaya had picked for him coming from up the stairs.

“…”

He ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket as he took the stairs two at a time, wondering just what it was that Izaya was up to. It was unlikely that he’d been attacked or that this were all some sort of trap to locate Tsukumoya, but he steeled himself regardless. If Izaya had been caught by someone, then Tsukumoya wouldn’t have much hope either, but at least the two of them would have some sort of chance if they were together.

Once he reached the top, he slowly and carefully made his way to Izaya’s bedroom. There was a light shining from inside, lighting up the doorway, and he took a moment to brace himself before entering. 

The room seemed safe enough as he glanced around it, his eyes travelling so quickly over everything that he almost missed the bed.

Almost.

“O-Ori-… Izaya?”

The informant smirked up at him from the bed, his body on full display and arms and legs bound loosely. _How_ he’d managed to tie himself there was a mystery, and it made Tsukumoya wonder if he really was alone. Had he interrupted something? Why would Izaya say it was fine to come over if he had?

“Ar-”

“I’m alone.”

“Ho-”

“I’m _very_ talented, _Shinichi._ It wasn’t difficult to tie myself up.”

“…wh-”

“Why not?”

Tsukumoya pouted, both unhappy that he apparently wasn’t allowed to finish a sentence (or even a word) and happy that he didn’t have to. He looked around the room again and spied a folded blanket on the ground beside the bed. Walking over to it quickly, he picked it up and draped it over Izaya.

He looked down at him with a concerned look, then moved to straddle him. It was slightly uncomfortable, given that he’d at some point become hard (Izaya _was_ naked and tied to a bed), and he leaned down as if he were kissing Izaya’s ear.

“ _Is there someone else here?_ ”

The informant laughed loudly, his entire body shaking. Was the writer just being cautious, or was it that he didn’t believe that Izaya would give him ‘gifts’?

“It’s just you and I, Tsukumoya.”

Tsukumoya nodded and pressed his face into Izaya’s neck, not entirely sure of what he was supposed to be doing. Was it some sort of sexual play, or something else? Had this been done for him, or-

“Izaya, I d-don’t-”

Izaya cut him off with a tired sigh, wriggling slightly beneath Tsukumoya’s body. “I thought you’d like it if I were tied up. Maybe now, you won’t finish _quite_ as fast.”

“…”

“If you don’t like it, then I could always ask someone else.”

Stiffening slightly, Tsukumoya pulled back so that he could look Izaya in the eye. “You could, but you won’t.”

Izaya smirked, but it came out looking more like a self-satisfied grin. “You sound so sure of yourself! You really are a pervert. Don’t tell me that you were feigning innocence to lower my defences?”

Definitely _not_ pouting, Tsukumoya moved himself further up so that he was in a seated position. His fingers ghosted over Izaya’s chest, gripping the top of the blanket he’d put there before pulling it down. 

He’d always liked Izaya’s chest and stomach. The skin was _slightly_ darker than his own but still pale, a stark contrast to the small hickey he’d left on Izaya’s waist last time. It was slightly faded now, only visible because Tsukumoya knew where to look.

“You tied yourself to a bed when you knew I’d be coming to visit.” He said quietly as he raked his fingernails lightly over Izaya’s stomach, relishing in the not so subtle shudder that ran through the informants body. “I think you might be the pervert and _I_ may be the innocent one.”

Izaya laughed a little but the sound came out strained. He was going to reply with more than the stuttered breath that left him, but was cut off by Tsukumoya’s lips.

He’d never liked kissing that much, especially not the soft sort that Tsukumoya seemed to enjoy giving him, but he wouldn’t have pushed him away even if he could. Kissing seemed to be one of the writers kinks, he reasoned, so he could _maybe_ bear with it.

A low moan rattled around in his throat despite himself when his lip was bitten, the pressure of it alternating between almost too painful and almost too light. It distracted Izaya from the sound of a zipper and the blanket being kicked further down, but not from the sensation of Tsukumoya’s erection being pressed up against his own.

Izaya was already laughing by the time Tsukumoya pulled back, happy to know that Tsukumoya had done what he’d wanted so easily. Any thoughts he’d had about wanting to tug at the other mans dark mop of hair were ignored, and he arched himself as much as he could. 

“It’s a good thing that I’m already prepared. You’re so eager that you might have forgotten and torn me apart!”

The _superior_ informant ignored him, looking down at Izaya with a blush on his cheeks and a thoughtful expression.

He could do _anything_ to Izaya.

 _Anything_ he wanted.

And Izaya could do _nothing_ in retaliation.

“…”

For the first time since this encounter had begun, Izaya truly started to feel as though he were tied up. The look on Tsukumoya’s face was troubling, and he felt as though he’d made a miscalculation somewhere.

“Ts-”

“I want you to try and break free.” Tsukumoya interrupted, running his hands over Izaya’s abdomen. “But you aren’t allowed to run off.”

“You’re so kinky! Would you like me to cry and say I hate it as well?”

“No.”

“You don’t want to take advantage of me?”

“No… Yes, but if you don’t enjoy it then neither will I.”

They stared at each other for a moment, as if both were trying to understand what Tsukumoya had said.

“You’ll struggle anyway, and I’m not going to fuck you until you’re nails are on my back.”

“Do you really like pain so much that you can’t keep it up otherwise?”

Tsukumoya blushed a little harder. “No, but I w-won’t know that you like it unless-”

“Fine. But you won’t have long.” Izaya sighed, testing the binding at his wrists. He’d play along for now if it made Tsukumoya do something other than stare at him.

“Good.”

With that, the older informant shifted, settling himself between Izaya’s legs as his cock pushed against the apparently prepared entrance. His head dipped to the crook of Izaya’s neck, his tongue running across the skin slowly. 

Izaya arched his back, not struggling at all as he felt Tsukumoya’s dick _almost_ push inside of him. “I thought you weren’t planning on fucking me until I escaped?”

Tsukumoya laughed cruelly into Izaya’s neck, sending shivers down the latters spine. “ _I’m not._ ”

He bit down on the skin, pulling his hips back slightly as Izaya’s moved up. Grinning, he laughed again at Izaya’s reactions, and started to lick, suck, and bite his way down Izaya’s body, leaving as many marks as he could now that he couldn’t be stopped.

Izaya started to struggle a little more fervently once Tsukumoya reached his nipples, an annoyed moan escaping him despite himself when teeth brushed over one. It would be easy enough to free himself, given that he’d ensured he could beforehand, but it was becoming harder to think clearly.

“ _Izaya…_ ” Tsukumoya’s nails grazed along the informants lower stomach as their eyes met. “Is there anything you would like?”

There were a lot of things Izaya would like, but he didn’t feel like sharing. “No.”

“Is there anything you want to do to me?”

“…no.”

Tsukumoya chuckled to himself as he moved further down, abandoning Izaya’s nipples after blowing a little cool air onto them. Anything the informant might have wanted to say was soon cut off by his genuine sounding moan once Tsukumoya reached his waist.

It was his weak spot, both of them knew that, and now that Izaya was immobile, Tsukumoya could take his time with it. His lips ghosted against the soft skin, tongue darting out swirl circles as Izaya writhed. 

It was unfair and cruel, but it always gave the best reactions.

He moved along his waist horizontally, his chin bumping into the head of Izaya’s erection as he nipped the skin _just_ above it. Izaya tried to arch again, but was held firmly in place when Tsukumoya’s hands moved to his hips.

“Stay still.”

“..!”

Izaya started to struggle properly now, hating that Tsukumoya still had his composure. He wanted to pull at his hair and hear the groan that always came along with it, but instead he was being relentlessly teased.

A series of hickeys in various shapes and colours littered Izaya’s abdomen by the time Tsukumoya was through, and though he _wanted_ to leave more, he wasn’t sure that Izaya wouldn’t kill him for it later.

Tilting his face, he watched as Izaya struggled with the ropes, making them tighter instead of releasing them. He smirked, happy with Izaya’s progress, then dipped his head back down to slowly lick Izaya’s cock from base to tip.

“Do you need some help?”

“N-No!” Izaya bit his tongue, regretting the stutter immediately. 

Tsukumoya chuckled again, then took the tip of Izaya’s cock into his mouth, sucking and licking at it enthusiastically before spitting it back out.

“I wonder if I can make you cum without that?”

If looks could kill, Izaya would be a murderer, as the look he shot Tsukumoya was anything but kind.

“If you ask me nicely then I might keep going.”

Izaya squirmed a little more, managing to get _some_ give in the rope as he used his most pleasant voice to reply. “Please, Shinichi-senpai! Please suck my cock!”

The older man laughed, leaning down to kiss the tip before pushing himself further down between Izaya’s legs. “No.”

Truth be told, Tsukumoya could barely stop himself from pushing into Izaya. Hearing his name said so casually made his cock twitch and his breathing ragged, and his nails dug deeper into Izaya’s hips. But they had a deal, of sorts, and he wasn’t about to let Izaya get out of it.

He let out a pleased hum as he spread Izaya’s legs further, watching as the lubricant dripped out of him. There were very few things that Tsukumoya would prefer to do over running his tongue over all of Izaya’s insides, but he restrained himself.

“You did this just for me?” He asked, but the question came out as more of a possessive growl. 

Izaya either didn’t hear or pretended not to, as the implication was suddenly too embarrassing. He pulled at his bonds a little more, managing to _finally_ break his legs free. 

“Good work, Izay-.”

“Shut up.”

With another laugh, Tsukumoya moved his head between Izaya’s thighs, licking at the skin at their apex. Izaya’s legs spread further despite himself, soft noises slipping out from between his lips as he struggled with the ropes. 

This teasing was too cruel and Tsukumoya was far too level headed, he decided, and he needed to change that. He managed to think clearly enough (despite what Tsukumoya was doing) to glance up at his bonds, and realised that he’d tied them to the headboard together and not separately.

An idea popped into his head, and he barely stopped himself from laughing.

“Ts-Tsukumoya… ki-kiss me.”

Tsukumoya stopped his licking, face turning red at Izaya’s request. It had to be a trap, he knew that, but he couldn’t say he really cared. He moved up quickly, crashing his lips into Izaya’s as his hands gripped the still bound wrists. 

The kiss was violent and passionate, with Tsukumoya quickly losing himself in it. Izaya was nipping him and running their tongues together, and it was so intoxicating that Tsukumoya hadn’t realised that he’d been flipped to his back until something warm and wet started suffocating his dick.

He tried to pull away from Izaya’s lips, but that only made him moan Izaya’s name more audibly as the other man sank himself onto Tsukumoya’s cock. Izaya pulled himself back, crooked lips and self satisfied eyes mocking Tsukumoya.

Izaya was still tied to the bed, and his wrists were pulled out in front of them, but he’d managed to flip them over and take matters into his own hands. It had been so unexpected that Tsukumoya couldn’t stop the flood of curses, groans, and whimpers that left him.

He wasn’t going to last, not with this sensation coupled with _this view,_ but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. The marks he’d left of Izaya made him twitch and jolt, and the sight of Izaya’s erection bouncing up and down on top of him-

“ _Izaya,_ I’m… c-close.” He admitted, despite the fact they’d only been fucking for a under a minute, “Feels…”

His hand moved to Izaya’s cock, squeezing it firmly before awkwardly pumping it. It was out of time and had no real rhythm, but it made Izaya tighten around him. 

He _had_ been teased mercilessly for some time already, so it wasn’t unexpected.

As Izaya picked up the pass, slamming himself onto Tsukumoya’s cock, his breathing became heavier and heavier. Tsukumoya’s hand, though awkward, felt _good_ and he felt himself drawing dangerously close to the finish.

“Shinichi-” He murmured, moving more erratically. “ _Cum for me._ ”

Tsukumoya’s eyes locked onto Izaya’s and his mouth dropped slightly, a lewd and unguarded groan leaking out in the form of Izaya’s name as he did as commanded. His hips snapped up as he pumped Izaya’s cock a little more quickly, and he released himself into Izaya’s ass.

Izaya finished shortly after, enjoying the power he apparently had over Tsukumoya far too much. He bucked into the palm holding him, spraying himself over the older informants chest as his body became rigid. 

He fell forward onto Tsukumoya shortly after, reasoning that it was because he couldn’t move anywhere else when he was tied up like this. As both men tried to catch their breath, he ignored the arm that draped itself over his lower back. It would be fine… for now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Prompt** : A kiss in the rain.

 

* * *

 

 

If Izaya and Tsukumoya were able to spend more than an hour without one inadvertently not-hurting the others feelings, it could be considered a miracle. Well-intentioned words often led to one pouting, which always made the other pout as well.

Neither would ever admit to feeling hurt, and though they both reasoned that any argument that came about because of the over-analysed words was a good excuse to leave the other, they always seemed to come back to one another.

It was embarrassing, really, how dependant accustomed to each others presence they had become. It was rare that either would offer an apology, choosing to sulk near each other as opposed to sulking away from each other instead.

Today really wasn’t any different. Whatever had started it this time had been long forgotten, but the not-hurt, not-embarrassment, and not-loneliness caused by one (then both) over-analysing the other was still quite raw. It culminated on the roof of Izaya’s apartment building, where Tsukumoya had gone to ~~sulk pout cry~~ think.

Izaya had gone up for totally different reasons, and definitely not because he wanted to be anywhere near Tsukumoya. The pair stood side by side as they looked out at Shinjuku, the lights of buildings and cars seeming to flicker more in the rain. It would have been romantic had it been any other pair, but to them it was nothing more than another way to spend their day.

“I w-want… t-to get higher.” Tsukumoya finally said, keeping his eyes on the view in front of him.

Izaya choked back a reply, deciding that now might not be the time to tease Tsukumoya. As interesting as it might be to see him jump, he really didn’t want such a mess in front of his building.

The men stood in silence again, the seconds soon turning into minutes as their clothes became soaked.

“Izaya…” The writer turned to the informant, his eyes wide and almost childlike. His hand reached up to brush the damp hair out of Izaya’s eyes (a practical move; something that was devoid of affection) and down his cheek. “You’re cold.”

It was still hard to process things like this. The complicated feelings that mixed and fought each other felt as though they might tear Izaya apart, and the urge to push Tsukumoya away and pull him closer were hard to withstand. He wanted to say something, but by the time he’d managed to think of what to say it was already too late.

Tsukumoya’s hands were cupping his face softly, warming him up as the slightly shorter man leaned up to press their lips together. It was a chaste kiss, with no teeth or tongue or biting involved, but it made Tsukumoya’s hands shake and his body sway.

Neither was entirely sure how long it lasted, and even after they pulled away they couldn’t seem to stay apart for too long. A second, rougher, more passionate kiss soon followed, with nails being raked down backs and small noises being leaked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Prompt:** Having sex in a public place

 

* * *

 

 

When Tsukumoya had decided to go for a walk with Izaya, he hadn’t actually envisioned this happening. 

Both the men enjoyed people watching, and could observe Tokyo from literally any location and be quite content. Tsukumoya had always watched security footage, rarely venturing out if there was no other reason, so to go on such outings with Izaya was already exciting. 

It was different, to feel the wind on his face, to taste the pollution, and to watch people so closely. His companion certainly made things more fun, with the both of them often going silent and simply enjoying the atmosphere together. 

On this particular day, there were more people around than usual. They moved around like ants, scattering occasionally when certain people moved through the crowds. 

Izaya had quietly taken Tsukumoya what was apparently one of his favourite rooftops. It was lower than the others, and the men could almost make out the facial expressions of those below them. Of course, given that they were so low, anyone looking up would have easily seen them as well.

It wouldn’t have usually been an issue as neither man was doing anything particularly nefarious, but Izaya seemed to want to change that.

Tsukumoya had noticed that Izaya was quieter than usual. He’d spoken, yes, but he hadn’t actually been saying anything. He’d just told Tsukumoya that they were going out, and the older man had followed. 

It was a warning that Tsukumoya had forgotten by the time they’d reached the roof, as he was too entranced by the crowds to think about much else. Even when Izaya had reached over and grabbed his hand, he didn’t think about it. They weren’t the sort to hold hands, but it all felt so natural that it couldn’t have been thought of as strange.

“Do you like watching them so much?”

Izaya’s voice was quiet, as if the people below were fish that might be startled away by his voice. Tsukumoya nodded in return, but kept his eyes on the crowds. There really was something peaceful about the day. 

The informant laughed, apparently unsurprised by Tsukumoya’s reaction. It wasn’t an overly pleasant laugh, as it was the one he’d seemed to trademark, and it made the older man turn his head to look at him.

“Izaya…?”

“Do you want to fuck, Shinichi?”

The hand holding Tsukumoya’s tightened painfully, and before he had a chance to brace himself, he was yanked toward Izaya. The informant grinned, _thrilled_ with how easily Tsukumoya moved, and shoved his back into the concrete barrier. 

Tsukumoya tensed and gripped onto Izaya’s shirt with his free hand, trying not to resist as Izaya pushed his torso onto then over the barrier. They were clearly visible now should anyone look up, and though it looked as though Izaya might be attempting to murder him, it quite obviously wasn’t the case.

“Did you get hard just from hearing me say your name?” Izaya asked, pushing his thigh between Tsukumoya’s legs and chuckling as the writer bucked up against it. “What a disgusting pervert you are, _senpai._ To get hard in public like this!”

Despite knowing better, Tsukumoya continued to move his hips toward Izaya’s, biting his lip harshly in an effort to keep quiet. He didn’t want to be seen, let alone heard, but the informant seemed to want the opposite. 

He leaned in closely, letting his lips brush against Tsukumoya’s as one of his hands slipped into his pants. His index finger swirled around the tip of the writers cock, causing the man to writhe and pant beneath him.

“Would you hate it if I made you cum in front of everyone? You’re so _loud,_ Shinichi. Everyone will hear you saying my name over and over.”

“ _Izaya…_ ”

Tsukumoya’s grip on Izaya loosened slightly, as he was too lost in what that sinful finger was doing to really care about anything else. His eyes became half lidded, and he watch Izaya watch him.

“You’re so cr-cruel.”

Izaya smirked, apparently happy with how Tsukumoya was reacting. With one hand, he managed to unzip Tsukumoya’s pants and pull his erection out, pumping it languidly as the writer continued to melt and whimper.

“Sit down on the edge.”

Tsukumoya’s eyes widened slightly at the instruction, unable to believe what he’d heard. “I’ll fall.”

“You won’t.” The teasing in Izaya’s voice was all but gone, and he released Tsukumoya’s hand in favour of unzipping his own pants. It was a little hard to do, given that neither man had stopped holding hands, but he managed to shimmy them down enough regardless. “I prepped for this, so sit down.”

“I-” The writer was cut off when he was shoved slightly backward, and he moved himself up and onto the ledge. He felt as though he might fall at any time, but there was a strong chance that Izaya might actually push him over if he didn’t listen.

“Good. That wasn’t _so_ hard, was it?” The informant clambered up after Tsukumoya, awkwardly arranging himself with no regard for the other mans fears. 

To his credit, Tsukumoya didn’t panic, knowing that Izaya wouldn’t put them _both_ in any real danger, but he squeezed the hand holding his anyway. His other hand went straight to Izaya’s ass, more out of habit than anything, and he squeezed it roughly.

“Did you bring any lu-” The sentence was cut short by a suffocating heat enveloping Tsukumoya’s cock, swallowing it whole and causing him to cry out. Izaya really had taken care of everything, it seemed, and Tsukumoya would later decide that he might underestimate Izaya more than he means to.

“You’re so _loud._ ” Izaya whispered, waiting for himself to adjust. “Do you want them to see you fucking me like this?”

Tsukumoya tried to answer, but the words turned into a low moan instead as the informant clenched around him. 

“Are you going to cum inside me and make me walk home like this?” Izaya rolled his hips, biting back the sounds that rattled around in his throat. “Do you like the idea of your cum dripping down my legs?”

The growl that elicited was loud enough for people below to hear, though no one fortunately thought to look up. The _superior_ informants hand released Izaya’s, moving straight to his ass and gripping it hard enough to leave bruises.

Izaya laughed, rolling his hips quickly so that he could slam himself down onto Tsukumoya’s cock. His own erection rubbed up against the other mans stomach, taunting it as the soft fabric of the hoodie brushed against it. 

It felt good, better than he’d imagined, especially when he could look over Tsukumoya’s shoulder at all the people down below. So absorbed in their own lives, they never thought about what might be happening around them. The fact that they _still_ hadn’t noticed what was happening so close to them mixed with Tsukumoya’s now incredibly enthusiastic help, and Izaya felt powerful.

Only _he_ could turn Tsukumoya into this lustful mess, and only _he_ could fuck him in public without getting caught. 

“ _Izaya._ ” 

The informant was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of his name being growled, and he looked down at Tsukumoya. They didn’t say anything, only looking at each other until the older man leaned forward and crashed their lips together. 

Izaya smirked into it, moving his hips faster as his hands weaved through Tsukumoya’s hair, pulling at it until the latter was practically screaming into his mouth. 

Tsukumoya finished shortly after, his face moving into the crook of Izaya’s neck to bite down as he usually did. Thought Izaya couldn’t _hear_ it, he knew that Tsukumoya was mumbling his name into his skin over and over. 

After a few moments, he climbed off Tsukumoya’s lap and sighed dramatically. 

“You didn’t finish.”

“You weren’t very good.”

“You surprised me.”

“And you were selfish. Did you really think that you could have me finish without touching me?”

Tsukumoya shrugged, tucking himself back into his pants before zipping himself up. Izaya only stood there watching, wondering what Tsukumoya might do next. Usually, he’d try to finish him, but given that they were in public, it might be different. 

He hadn’t really expected Tsukumoya to kneel down in front of him, and yet there he was. 

“Don’t hold yourself back. If you take too long, I’ll get hard again.”

With that, Tsukumoya took Izaya into his mouth, letting his tongue run along the shaft as if it were the most delicious thing in the world. Izaya ran his fingers through Tsukumoya’s hair, pulling lightly on it occasionally and relishing the moans that vibrated against his dick.

He looked out at the crowd below as Tsukumoya sucked him off, smiling to himself until a finger pushed into his ass. It ripped soft voices from his throat, and he tried and failed to stop himself from thrusting into Tsukumoya’s mouth and back onto the finger. 

He finished quickly, the feeling of Tsukumoya swallowing him dragging out the sensation for longer than it had any right to be. His knees felt weak and his body was drained, and he _almost_ thought to say thank you to Tsukumoya for pulling up his pants. 

Almost.

“You’re such a pervert, Tsukumoya.”

He received no answer, save for the hand on his lower back that guided him closer to the ledge. He leaned against it with his eyes half closed, and sighed happily to himself. It would be a perfect day if only Tsukumoya managed to keep his mouth shut for a little longer.


	6. Chapter 6

“Let’s play a game, Orihara.”

Rising from his seat, Tsukumoya stepped carefully over to Izaya, almost as though he were approaching a wild animal. His voice was even and smooth, though a little deeper than it usually was, but there was a mocking edge to the way he spoke Izaya’s name.

He received nothing but a frown in response, though he didn’t let that get to him. This sort of childish attitude was one of the reasons Izaya was so fun to play with, afterall.

“Oh, don’t be like that, I know you like games and I’m sure you’ll enjoy this one- maybe you’ve even heard of it? It’s a fairly common game, but given how awful you are at knowing anything, maybe you haven’t. It’s called ‘I Spy.’”

Standing as close as he could to Izaya without actually being close to him, Tsukumoya watched for a reaction. Once again, the only response he received was a frown, though this one was much deeper than the first.

“So you have heard of it… that’s good! You really are full of surprises, aren’t you? Now, do I need to explain the rules to you or-”

“Are you an idiot? How do you expect me to play?”

A smug grin made its home on Tsukumoya’s lips, and though Izaya couldn’t see it, he definitely knew it was there. He shifted as best he could, the skin of his bare knees rubbing against the desk almost painfully.

The older informant moved in front of him and gently carded his fingers through Izaya’s slightly damp hair affectionately. “Are you finally admitting that you’re incapable of noticing things even when they’re this close to you?”

“I’m wearing a fucking blindfold, Tsukumoya. Or are you incapable of noticing that?”

“That doesn’t mean that you can’t play, or have you forgotten about your other senses?” Tsukumoya’s hand moved out of Izaya’s hair and down his face until it reached the edge of the blindfold resting against the informant’s cheek.

Izaya’s breath caught slightly in his throat as the fingers ghosted against his skin, but managed to turn it into something resembling an annoyed sigh. “Then that wouldn’t be I Spy. That’s… I Feel.”

“Do you?” Whether Tsukumoya had planned for Izaya to complain in exactly that way or not was irrelevant as long as Izaya thought that things were going the way Tsukumoya had planned. “Then tell me what you feel.”

Despite being blindfolded, Izaya’s eyes scrunched shut as he felt the fingers on his cheek move away, and something wet take their place. It moved down his cheek and toward his jaw, leaving a sticky trail in its wake.

“Something small.”

With a laugh, Tsukumoya slapped one of Izaya’s cheeks with the mystery appendage lightly, the sound being worse than the actual blow. It echoed in Izaya’s ears, making him dizzy despite its lightness, and a low groan slipped through his slightly parted lips.

“You really are an idiot. All this false bravado covering the fact that you likely just don’t know what is literally hitting you in the face.” After taking a moment to pause for effect, the tip of the mystery appendage was dragged over Izaya’s cheek roughly and pressed against his lips. “Maybe you’d do better with your sense of taste?”

Almost every part of Izaya was screaming at him to resist, or to bite off the thing that was gently pressing against his lips. He was prideful enough to have these thoughts, but not enough to resist the other, louder part of himself that demanded to play along once Tsukumoya’s fingers slipped into his hair.

Feigning hesitation, Izaya slowly parted his lips. The tip of Tsukumoya’s mystery appendage was resting gently on his swollen lower lip, but made no move to push further into his mouth. His tongue snaked out, swirling around the tip of the would-be intruder lazily, before retreating back inside his mouth. “It tastes bitter, like you.”

The fingers threaded through Izaya’s hair tensed, pulling on the strands tightly as Tsukumoya sighed happily. “I’ll take that as a compliment, seeing as I know just how much you love bitter things.”

Izaya’s body went stiff as he prepared for what would likely be Tsukumoya’s cruel thrust into his mouth and down his throat, a few small, barely audible sounds leaking out his mouth despite himself. Several long seconds passed without that happening, however, and it wasn’t until the pressure on his lip disappeared that Izaya realised that Tsukumoya was walking away.

“Did you really think I’d force myself on you? It’s no fun if you aren’t begging.”

“I’m not-”

“You will, in your own special way.” With skillful fingers, Tsukumoya untied Izaya’s wrists, leaving him to either stand of stay on all fours.

“What are you doing?”

“I think I like you with the blindfold. Somehow, you seem more honest.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Would you like to watch me if I did?”

“…”

Izaya could move away now if he wanted. He could stand, punch Tsukumoya, collect his clothes, then leave on shaky legs. But that’s not why they met, and his straining erection wasn’t going to let him simply leave. The cockring, however…

“I’d leave that on.” Tsukumoya said quickly, interpreting Izaya’s movement toward the device accurately as he moved behind him. “We both know you finish too easily without it.”

“…” Deciding that he was at his strongest when he was silent, Izaya said nothing, and was only the smallest bit thankful that Tsukumoya didn’t point out that he was listening to that advice.

“Your rear is almost prettier than your face. It’s almost a crime that I’m the only one who gets to see you from this angle.”

“…”

“Ah, you’re twitching.” Tsukumoya’s index finger reached out, the pad brushing against Izaya’s already lubricated entrance. It had been so fun to watch Izaya as he prepared himself earlier, and the older informant was almost sad that it had ended. “Are you trying to communicate using morse code?”

“…”

“Two short, one long. Two long, one short. One short, one long, one short… Are you telling me to shut up and hurry? Are you really this desperate already?” As Tsukumoya spoke, his hands moved to grip Izaya’s hips. His grip loosened and tightened sporadically, teasing the informant beneath him until his mystery appendage slid between the crack of Izaya’s ass. “‘Just put it in,’ is that it?”

“…”

“I wonder… Maybe I was wrong earlier.” One of Tsukumoya’s hands released the hip it had been holding, then slid across the soft skin of Izaya’s thigh and between his legs. “I might let you go now. It would be quite satisfying to have you cum without actually penetrating you.”

“No!”

“Hmm?”

“…don’t.”

“Don’t penetrate you?”

“Don’t undo it!”

The pads of Tsukumoya’s fingers along Izaya’s shaft, touching it just enough to have Izaya bucking into them. “Because you’ll cum so quickly?”

“…”

“Do you want to cum some other way instead? Would it be less embarrassing for you to cum whilst I’m penetrating you from behind?”

“Hnn…”

Taking the reluctant moan as confirmation, Tsukumoya moved his hips slightly backward. With more luck than skill, he located Izaya’s entrance fairly easily, and pressed himself in slowly.

It was torturous to move so slowly, especially when Izaya was thrusting backward and thrashing about like an idiot. It made Tsukumoya stop his movements entirely, not exactly trusting himself not to rut into his favourite place at an insane pace.

“Idiot.”

“…”

“You know b-better than… to not… _impatient_!”

Izaya pushed himself back further, trying and failing to spear himself on more of Tsukumoya’s no-longer-mysterious cock.

“Wh-What… are you… going to… p-punish… me?” Though Izaya’s words were shaky, the sentiment and the laugh that came along shortly after definitely weren’t.

The only response Izaya received was a pained- “On your back.”- followed by the total withdrawal of Tsukumoya from his ass and cock. The abrupt lack of contact was very nearly painful for the informant, who both wanted to obey and disobey.

Luckily, Tsukumoya wasn’t feeling patient enough to wait for Izaya to move on his own, and pushed him onto his side and almost off the desk. With more strength than he’d usually use, he grabbed Izaya’s ankles and moved him totally onto his back, spreading his legs wide as he settled between them.

“Pardon the intrusion, _Izaya_.”

Izaya felt the air leave his lungs in the form of a low groan as Tsukumoya shoved into him, his hands scratching at the other man’s arms in some attempt to steady himself. Laughing to himself, as though this had been the plan all along, Tsukumoya leaned down and nipped the edge of Izaya’s jaw, earning a shallow gasp and curse as a reward.

“Bastard… Wait until… I…”

“Until you what? Track me down and suck my dick?” Pulling back, Tsukumoya felt himself twitch and leak into Izaya’s ass at the memory of how they met.

“…”

“You drive such a hard bargain, Orihara.”

With that, Tsukumoya slammed himself back into Izaya’s ass, the force knocking the air out of both of them. He repeated the action again, and again, feeling suffocated as Izaya clung to him using every body part available.

“Orihara-” It was almost impossible for Tsukumoya to separate himself from Izaya, given the tangle of limbs far stronger than his own desperately trying to pull him even closer. “Orihara, let go.”

The command had Izaya going limp, though the pout on his lips was so childish that Tsukumoya almost felt guilty for giving it. With a frustrated sigh, he reached between them and removed the cock ring gingerly, causing Izaya’s back to arch as a symphony of small sounds slipped out of him.

Tsukumoya rubbed his forehead as he peered down at the mess below him, wondering just how they’d ever managed to get into this position. The blindfold seemed to compliment how bruised Izaya’s lips were, and there was an almost innocent quality to all of it.

“Stop st-staring, pervert.” With more false confidence than a middle schooler with a Playboy, Izaya writhed in the most seductive way he could. “Fuck me, or fuck off.”

It would have been more mature to drag things out, or to have Izaya repeat himself. It would have been more fun to continue to tease and push him, instead of giving in and granting his so eloquently put request.

Fortunately for Izaya, Tsukumoya didn’t have anywhere near the amount of self-control needed to deny him, and snapped his hips toward him roughly. He buried himself inside Izaya’s ass as his hand pumped at his cock awkwardly, pulling out one of the more intense and loud orgasms he’d ever witnessed.

Izaya wrapped his arms and legs around Tsukumoya, dragging him closer as his entire body tensed. He howled something indecipherable as jets of semen shot out almost violently, his nails digging into Tsukumoya’s back hard enough to draw blood.

Thrusting erratically and feeling as though he were a jockey riding an uncooperative horse, Tsukumoya fought to _stay on_ and get off at the same time. It wasn’t overly difficult, now that he could actually understand that Izaya was trying very hard not to call his name, and he found himself finishing only moments after the informant had.

He rocked into Izaya even after he’d finished, milking himself of every last drop before collapsing onto the idiot’s chest. They stayed there, sticky from wet and cum, catching their breaths until Izaya had enough and pushed Tsukumoya off of him and onto the floor.

It always finished that way, with both men wordlessly using the shower before Tsukumoya slips out the front door as though nothing had happened. Izaya had tried to follow him once, only to be accosted in the alley next to his apartment by a still very enthusiastic Tsukumoya, and had decided it was safer to just let him go. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t come back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why won't this ship leave me aloNE IT'S SO AWFUL

It was rare that Izaya would provoke Shizuo in front of so many cameras, and even rarer still that he wouldn't move away from them once the fight kicked off. He seemed strange today, though, moving more erratically than usual as if he were threatening to fight Shizuo one-on-one.

Instead of sprinting through the streets as he usually did, he only moved his body enough to dodge the wide sweep of the STOP sign Shizuo was wielding. His back arched beautifully before it fell backward, threatening to topple him over- but the deceptive strength in his legs kept that from happening.

Though Tsukumoya couldn't hear it, he knew that Shizuo was roaring in frustration. He supposed that he might too, if he'd been in the same position and somehow able to think of anything but the memories he associated with those powerful legs...

Twisting at the waist, Izaya spun himself around. There was a manic sort of look on his face, captured perfectly by the lens of the security camera. 

He was beautiful, really. Beautiful and deadly, like some sort of exotic plant that lured in unsuspecting tourists.

Those ridiculous legs kicked him off the ground then bent at the knee. They moved quickly to his chest, effectively shrinking Izaya as the STOP sign swiped beneath him.

It felt like he was in the air for too long, almost as if he were in slow motion, but Tsukumoya felt no need to panic. This was a dance that Izaya knew all the steps to, so there was no need to worry for his safety. Besides, even if there had been some cause for concern, he would have been too caught up in Izaya’s movements to realise it.

Izaya hit the ground on the balls of his feet, keeping himself low so as to miss the swipe of the STOP sign above his head. The move was far too obvious though, and Shizuo seemed to know just what Izaya had planned as well.

He brought the sign up above his head with both hands before crashing it down toward Izaya. Tsukumoya leaned on the edge of his seat, wondering if Izaya knew how swiftly death was approaching him-

But that's when he saw it.

The wink.

The movement had been so slight, Tsukumoya had almost believed he’d imagined it. But then something else-

A pursing- no,  _ puckering _ of lips.

Directed at the camera.

Directed at  _ him. _

Tsukumoya’s heart sped up, moving almost as quickly as Izaya did when he launched himself off the ground and into a rather graceful backflip. His coat opened as he did, fluttering around him as though it were waving, and the smallest amount of skin peaked out from beneath his shirt.

The sign didn't so much as graze him, instead becoming buried in the ground where Izaya had crouched not a second earlier.

Tsukumoya let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and wondered why his face felt so warm. Of course Izaya had known he was watching, he always knew.

As he laughed to himself, Tsukumoya pushed away from the desk and looked away from the monitors. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text, then fixed up his hair as best he could.

Izaya would visit after that performance, surely.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a challenge, regardless of whether it was issued or not. 
> 
> Neither would speak, or so much as whisper.

It was silent, save for the few wet sounds intermingling with frantic puffs of air escaping the rooms only inhabitants.

 

No words were spoken. No jibes, insults, criticisms, or suggestions. The teasing that had served as foreplay earlier had ceased much earlier once the unspoken challenge was issued.

 

Stay quiet.

 

Don't say a word.

 

Don’t make a sound.

 

Don't even  _ breathe- _

 

Or you lose.

 

In theory, this contest really should be easy for at least one of them. Tsukumoya possessed more than enough willpower than any man ought to, and the mere  _ thought _ that he could lose was almost laughable. Surely, he wouldn't lose to a man like Orihara Izaya in a battle of wits.

 

In practice, however, things were much more difficult. He hadn't accounted for the way shadows seemed to caress the hint of Izaya’s ribs, or the way they exaggerated the lean muscles of his back each time he moved. The paleness of his skin seemed different when there was nothing covering even an inch of him, and the desire to mark it was nearly overpowering.

 

Nor had Tsukumoya remembered just how fluid Izaya’s movements could be. He was mesmerized as Izaya crawled  _ so slowly _ between his legs, and felt as though he might be dreaming when he settled in his lap.

 

Still, even this wasn't enough to force more than a huff out of him.

 

The slick, warm heat flooded Tsukumoya’s senses as Izaya lowered himself, the sensation racing every every inch of skin to the point where he felt totally and utterly  _ consumed-  _ and yet, the only thing that was drawn out was the subtle twist of his lips.

 

That was defeat in and of itself, and this exercise was becoming harder and harder to cope with.

 

As he leaned backward, Izaya relished the way Tsukumoya’s eyes crawled over his body. The writer likely didn’t realise just how obvious he was being, with his gaze so heated that Izaya felt  _ burned  _ by it. Just how many times had he been watched that way? Ever since they’d started meeting like this, he’d felt that same heat even through the chatroom. 

 

Did that mean that Tsukumoya only recently decided to become a pervert? Had Izaya  _ turned him into a pervert?  _ As much as he wanted to believe he’d had some control of Tsukumoya’s loss of it, it was safer not to make such an assumption. Tsukumoya would find some way to disprove it if Izaya so much as thought it, and he was having far too much fun to let that happen.

 

This time, however… This time was  _ different.  _ For the first time, Izaya felt as though he were winning. That hope was enough to keep him silent, even as blunt nails dragged over his abdomen and that  _ hungry  _ gaze saw straight through him. When Tsukumoya dragged his nails down the inside of Izaya’s thighs, spreading them enough so that he could himself disappear inside of Izaya like the pervert he now was, not so much as a hum slipped out.

 

With his back arched, Izaya rocked slowly- hesitantly- treating Tsukumoya much the same way he himself had been treated the first time this had happened. He kept his back bent backward, even though it was becoming slightly more painful, and watched as Tsukumoya drank in every inch of him. 

 

As he worshipped him.

 

But it wasn't enough. 

 

Though Izaya could feel the agonising twitching inside of him, it wasn't enough to draw out so much as a groan from his victim.

 

What else did Tsukumoya like? Wasn't this enough? He could see the near pain wrought on Tsukumoya’s face as he struggled to contain himself, but if this wasn't enou-  _ ah _ .

 

Izaya leaned in and placed a hand on either side of the pillow supporting Tsukumoya’s face. He smiled, as if this were all some sort of sick joke, and let his lips brush against his partners cheek tenderly.

 

He could practically  _ hear _ the yearning and the desperation Tsukumoya was trying so hard to hide, and the next step suddenly didn't feel so difficult. 

 

Izaya wanted to taste it, and the fact that swallowing  _ purely human desire _ coincided with his plan only made everything so much sweeter.

 

Gently, Izaya pressed his lips against Tsukumoya’s, hiding his smirk in the chaste kiss as if that had been the idea all along. He stayed there for some moments, rocking his hips languidly as he did, and treating Tsukumoya as if they were  _ lovers. _

 

When he pulled back, Tsukumoya’s eyes were wide and disbelieving. The pinkness on his cheeks had darkened, a look of confusion clouding his eyes. It was cute for all the wrong reasons, but Izaya chose not to laugh. He wouldn’t break the silence, not when he was so close to winning.

 

It only took another second for Tsukumoya to understand what had happened.

 

**_“Izaya.”_ **

 

It was only natural that Tsukumoya flip them over so that he could move more passionately, burying himself as deeply as he could inside of Izaya. His instincts ran on the high he'd been given, and the contest was all but forgotten. It didn’t matter if he’d lost, not when Izaya had done something so-

 

As his mouth crashed into Izaya’s, it was as if their positions had been reversed. There was nothing soft or delicate about this kiss, those things replaced by an insatiable  _ hunger.  _ The roughness that Izaya always wanted from him was given, albeit clumsily, as Tsukumoya tried his hardest to possess Izaya in any way possible.

 

Izaya swallowed each desperate cry, each guttural sound and beg for moremore _ more,  _ with a smile. Gasping as he was gripped and devoured, he tried as best he could to convince himself that the strange swelling in his chest was caused by the fact he’d finally won  _ something. _

 

If only he could speak, he might whisper a quiet  _ “Shinichi, _ ”-

 

-but only so he could see the reaction he received and how animalistic Tsukumoya might become.

 

Definitely not because he found rendered incapable of even thinking anything else.


	9. Chapter 09

“Are you _sure_ you’re in middle school?” Izaya asked, his voice squeaking ever so slightly as he appraised the boy in front of him. “You’re so _small_.”

It wasn’t like Izaya to say things like that, but after being so rudely interrupted (and _corrected_ , though Izaya wouldn’t acknowledge that such a thing had ever happened), he couldn’t help but act his age. Usually, he might have smiled and walked away rather than confront, but something about this boy just rubbed him up the wrong way.

There was no reason why he _should_ have felt annoyed by him. Even as an elementary schooler, Izaya found it difficult to be anything other than interested in his classmates. But everything about this boy was just _irritating_.

Perhaps it was because he looked more like a high schooler than a middle schooler, given how tall he was. Or maybe it was because his mop of dark hair was so messy, when Izaya’s mother always chased him around the house with a comb (the woman just didn’t understand that floofy hair was more fashionable). Or maybe it was because the kid hadn’t said a word to him yet.

He just stood there, watching him with a curious, before pulling the pen Izaya had been holding out of his fingertips and correcting the puzzle he’d been working on. It was beyond rude, especially since they didn’t know one another, and Izaya found that he didn’t exactly know how to approach the situation.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Izaya managed to keep his voice even, and applauded himself for not sounding like the eleven year old he was. “Can’t you speak Japanese?”

The middle schooler smiled lopsidedly as his eyes became a little brighter with amusement. He nodded his head, as if to say that he could indeed speak Japanese, but otherwise stayed silent.

Frustrated, Izaya let out a long breath through his nose. “Can you speak?”

The boy nodded again, but his lips stayed sealed shut.

“But you don’t want to talk to me.”

The boy’s smile faltered and his eyebrows pulled together. Slowly and hesitantly, he shook his head.

““No?” No what!” Exasperated and out of patience, Izaya kicked the ground with his foot. “No you don’t want to talk to me? Then… why… Who are you?”

After taking a step backward, the boy frowned at Izaya. He reached out to him, perhaps out of guilt for frustrating a boy a couple of years younger than him, and tapped his shoulder.

“Sh-Shi.”

Izaya looked up at the boy with a pout, unsure of what he was saying. Apparently understanding that Izaya was confused, the boy tapped his chest with his free hand before repeating himself.

“S-Shi.”

Smiling brightly now that he understood, Izaya took a step closer to the boy. “Shi? Because you’re bad luck?”

The boy frowned.

“So it’s sort for something?” Humming, Izaya pondered what the boy’s actual name could be, but it wasn’t really all that important. “Why were you watching me?”

The boy’s expression perked up at the question, and his lips moved silently for several moments as if he were trying to find the right words. “Y-Yo-You… wa-w-wa…wat-tch-ched.”

So he’d seen Izaya watching people? That wasn’t all that strange.

“…b-ba-bad a-a-at p-pu-p…-puh…z-zz-zles.”

All the joy Izaya had been feeling evaporated, and he scowled at the boy before taking a step back. “You’re bad at puzzles!”

“N-No…”

“Yes.”

“…n-nn-no.”

“Yes!” Izaya scooped up his puzzle and tucked it under an arm, then shot the boy a glare. “You’re stupid.”

“I-Iza-”

“H-How did you-”

“B-Ba-Bag.” The boy pointed at Izaya’s bag, which had his name written neatly on the outside. “S-Se-See y-y-yo-ou-ou.”

With a huff and a bright red face, Izaya stormed off away from the boy. It wasn’t until after he’d stopped and turned around to poke his tongue out at him that he realised that he’d never gotten his name, but by then it was too late.

He’d probably never seen him again though, so it probably didn’t matter.


End file.
